


An Interlude

by Pidgey



Series: Second Impressions [4]
Category: Justified
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:29:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidgey/pseuds/Pidgey
Summary: Boyd makes an effort. It's not appreciated.Ficlet that didn't fit in anywhere else in this series.





	An Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little snippet that didn't fit into my last story. But I love Art and didn't want this to rot on my hard drive forever

Art strides into his office, nonchalantly reading through some paperwork. He sits at his desk, pulls out a pen and signs the document. Taking his sweet time before looking up to acknowledge his guest.

“Guy at the front desk says you demanded to speak to me personally.” Art leans back in his chair casually, eyeing Boyd Crowder where he is sitting straight and formal at Art’s desk, his hands linked together on the table in front of him. With the tailored suit, shock of black hair and completely blank expression Boyd probably came across as quite intimidating to most, Art mused. But he was too old and had seen too much shit to be impressed by the younger man’s posturing.

“I would like to report a missing person.” Boyd says levelly.

“I believe missing persons is police business. Not in the marshals’ jurisdiction. There’s a cop shop about a mile from here. I’m sure we can give you directions. Heck Boyd I’m pretty sure they have cops all the way down in Harlan!” Art grins.

Boyd leans forward over the desk, “No sir. You see, this particular missing person is in your jurisdiction. Because you know where this particular missing person is and all I’m asking is you share that information.”

“Cut the crap Crowder. Pardon my alliteration. I’m not as fancy with words as you so I’m going to say this really simply.” Art sits forward himself, pointing a finger at Boyd for emphasis, “Raylan is not missing. Raylan does not want to be found by you. No one in this building will tell you where he is, and even if they would, you absolutely should not track him down. Let. It. Go.”

Boyd holds his eyes without wavering, “I can’t do that.”

“Well it seems we are at an impasse. Hell hath no fury right?” Art shakes his head.

Boyd scowl deepens and he bites out, slightly louder, “Are you implying I am a woman scorned Chief Mullen?”

“Oh I wouldn’t dare Mr Crowder.” Art sneers, “What with these being politically correct times and all, I didn’t mean to imply anything. What I meant to say explicitly though was your romantic entanglement with Raylan does not entitle you to shit. Raylan left you, making it very clear your little affair is over. It is done. Let. It. Go.”

If he was expecting Boyd to react to the revelation Art knew about their relationship, he was sorely disappointed. Instead Boyd slams a hand on the desk in an uncharacteristic display of frustration, “It is not done until I get a say too. Until I speak with him, it ain’t over!”

“C’mon, handsome fella like you?” Art scoffs, amused Boyd took the bait for once, “Plenty of lovely ladies-and fellas, I don’t judge-who would be ready and willing. So why chase a fed across the country?”

“Dante travelled through hell itself. I would be prepared to do the same.” Boyd lifts his chin.

“You calling Raylan your Beatrice?” Art laughs, “And here I was worrying about being politically correct.”

Boyd glares deeply but Art isn’t cowed. In fact, it is all he can do not to smirk, “Now, if that is all Mr Crowder, get the hell out of my office.”

Art stands and gestures towards the door but Boyd moves swiftly to intercept him.

“Get out of my face Crowder.” Art growls, suddenly tired of this game.

“Now wait just a second, we can talk about this. I am a desperate man Chief Mullen. A man in love, heart sick.” Boyd implores sweetly, hand pressed to his own heart. Art resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“I just want to talk to him, nothing more. For all the bad blood between Raylan and I he should not expect any harm from me or mine for leavin’ me. He’s his own man and that’s his decision to make. I just want to hear it in his own words. For… closure.” Boyd says with sincerity, eyes wide and pleading.

“Alright, alright.” Art concedes, “Look you didn’t get it from me and I really shouldn’t be doing this but I’ll give you his number.”

Art steps around Boyd and opens the office door, “It’s 5-5-5-go-fuck-yourself. I got it pretty well memorised, ‘cept that area code. Listen, if it don’t work, call me up and I’ll double check it for you.”

Boyd seethes. Not visibly, but Art has spent his whole career staring down tough SOBs and spots the clenched jaw and the concealed rage. 

Boyd exits the office, pausing as he passes Art to say lowly, “He will surface and you haven’t done much more than irritate me.”

“You have a nice day now Mr Crowder.” Art calls after him as he exits.


End file.
